


“You interrupted.”

by w_x_2



Series: Bendy [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Autofellatio, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w_x_2/pseuds/w_x_2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like Sherlock to swear, John wants to make sure he's alright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“You interrupted.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These boys don’t belong to me but to their creators. I mean no harm and make no profit.  
> A/N: For the 4th day of [mmom](http://mmom.livejournal.com/) 2012.

“Shit,” John hears just as he is pressing the key into the door to their flat. And that is Sherlock’s voice but Sherlock doesn’t swear, thinks it’s too crass.

 

“Sherlock?” John rushes to ask, trying to turn the key and get inside. “Are you al-”

 

But John doesn’t get to finish his sentence, and in fact is made to stop altogether when Sherlock says, “Stop, stay where you are, and no, I am not in any danger, just wait, wait, argh,” he huffs and there’s a cluttering noise.

 

“Feeling a bit symphoric?” John asks, trying to joke, because he  _is_  worried but Sherlock is kind of being his normal self.

 

“You were only supposed to come back in one hour and forty-one minutes. You are early, very early and you sneaked all the way up the stairs and-”

 

“And you were distracted,” John concludes. “Can I come in now?”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock mutters.

 

When he walks inside Sherlock is by the window, back turned to John in his silk pyjama robe, bottoms, and in bare feet.

 

“Nicotine patch,” Sherlock says, hand outstretched in John’s direction.

 

John drops the groceries in the hallway, and walks into the sitting room, finds the patches and picks one up as an excuse to get closer to Sherlock and be able to find out what's going on.

 

“You swore. What’s wrong?”

 

“You interrupted,” Sherlock says, voice low, teeth clenched.

 

“Sherlock?” John questions, placing the patch in his outstretched hand before moving his own hand to Sherlock’s shoulder. “Something’s off.”

 

“You _interrupted_ ,” Sherlock mutters this time, hastily shoving a sleeve up, and successfully displacing John's hand.

 

“Right,” John replies, monotone. “Are you hurt? Do I need to check you over?”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m your doctor, Sherlock,” he reminds.

 

“John,” Sherlock says with a tight voice. “I’ll turn around, you’ll figure it out, realize it’s nothing problematic, and we won’t talk about it.  _Ever_.”

 

“You don’t hide anything.” John watches the taller man nod in a positive reply and agrees, “Ok.”

 

Sherlock puts the nicotine patch on his skin, flexes his arm once, twice, and then turns around, eyes closed.

 

John looks for a moment, focused on observing. He sees Sherlock’s pink cheeks, his tense muscles despite the nicotine surging through his system trying to show otherwise, then John looks further down and notices the tent in Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms.

 

“I interrupted your  _personal_  time,” John deduces.

 

“Hm,” Sherlock hums in agreement, cheeks turning pinker before he opens his eyes and then starts to walk away.

 

“You are favouring a leg,” John comments.

 

“Pulled a muscle in my thigh,” Sherlock informs.

 

“Your lips are swollen,” John muses.

 

Sherlock stops in his tracks but keeps his back turned to John so the doctor walks towards Sherlock until he is standing in front of the taller man.

 

“I thought you had reached a final conclusion?” Sherlock asks and John can’t help but breathe in Sherlock’s exhaled air.

 

“I did,” John states. “But you wouldn’t sprain a muscle getting up, and your lips are swollen past simple biting or nibbling.”

 

Sherlock exhales hard through his nose.

 

“I sprained it in the process of sitting up,” Sherlock corrects.

 

“Your breath,” John utters.

 

“What do you want to add to your conclusion?” Sherlock asks in what is clearly an exasperated tone.

 

John knows there was no one else in the house because there wasn’t a second set of limbs moving about – and it’s really not Sherlock’s style. But Sherlock’s lips are awfully swollen, and his breath smells of cock, no doubt about that. John looks at him for a moment, head tilting slightly to the side. “You’re bendy.”


End file.
